Amabel had only retired to rest for a few hours during the night.  When left to herself in her chamber, she continued to pray till exhaustion compelled her to seek some repose.  Arising about two o’clock, she employed herself for more than an hour in further devotion, and then took a last survey of every object in the room.  She had occupied it from her childhood; and as she opened drawer after drawer, and cupboard after cupboard, and examined their contents, each article recalled some circumstance connected with the past, and brought back a train of long-forgotten emotions.  While she was thus engaged, Patience tapped at the door, and was instantly admitted.  The tenderhearted kitchenmaid assisted her to dress, and to put together some few articles omitted to be packed by her mother.  During this employment she shed abundance of tears, and Amabel’s efforts to console her only made matters worse.  Poor Patience was forced at last to sit down, and indulge a hearty fit of crying, after which she felt considerably relieved.  As soon as she was sufficiently recovered to be able to speak, she observed to Amabel, “Pardon what I am about to say to you, my dear young mistress, but I cannot help thinking that the real seat of your disease is in the heart.”

A slight blush overspread Amabel’s pale features, but she made no answer.

“I see I am right,” continued Patience, “and indeed I have long suspected it.  Let me entreat you, therefore, dear young lady, not to sacrifice yourself.  Only say the word, and I will find means of making your retreat known to the Earl of Rochester.  Blaize is devoted to you, and will do anything you bid him.  I cannot wonder you fret after so handsome, so captivating a man as the earl, especially when you are worried to death to marry a common apprentice like Leonard Holt, who is not fit to hold a candle to your noble admirer.  Ah! we women can never blind ourselves to the advantages of rank and appearance.  We are too good judges for that.  I hope you will soon be restored to your lover, and that the happiness you will enjoy will make amends for all the misery you have endured.”

“Patience,” said Amabel, whose cheek, as the other spoke, had returned to its original paleness—­“Patience,” she said, gravely, but kindly, “I have suffered you to proceed too far without interruption, and must correct the very serious error into which you have fallen.  I am so far from pining for an interview with the Earl of Rochester, that nothing in the world should induce me to see him again.  I have loved him deeply,” she continued in a tremulous tone; “nay, I will not attempt to disguise that I feel strongly towards him still, while I will also freely confess that his conduct towards me has so preyed upon my spirits, that it has impaired, perhaps destroyed, my health.  In spite of this, I cannot sufficiently rejoice that I have escaped the earl’s snares—­I cannot be sufficiently thankful to the merciful Being who, while he has thought fit to chastise me, has preserved me from utter ruin.”